


It's a Long Ways From Feeling Like the Old Days

by whited0g



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Atlas Hawke - Freeform, Custom Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Gen, Purple-Red Hawke (Dragon Age), Warrior Hawke (Dragon Age), hawke fights in a fighting ring but bethany doesn't need to know that, set between the prologue and act 1, they both deal with a lot and need a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25834768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whited0g/pseuds/whited0g
Summary: “Do you ever miss them?” Her voice is so quiet that if Atlas wished, he could have said he didn’t hear her. But she knows he does the way he stiffs as her fingers glide across the burn mark. He looks over his shoulder at her. He isn’t pretending to not hear her, maybe he’s waiting for her to continue. She takes it as a cue to go on. “I just mean it’s been… It’s been almost a year. Do you think about them?”“Yeah… Constantly.”
Relationships: Bethany Hawke & Hawke
Kudos: 1





	It's a Long Ways From Feeling Like the Old Days

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not used to putting my work out there, so I hope this makes sense to at least a few people !! This is mostly just a small drabble that popped into my head one day, and it wouldn't leave till I wrote it out. Hope you enjoy !! Title comes from the song Be Okay by Jordan Fisher.
> 
> If there are any mistakes, and something doesn't make sense, just let me know. Constructive criticism is more than welcome !!

The fade in Kirkwall felt different. The stone under Bethany’s feet tasted of the centuries of agony felt by many people from different walks of life. From the pain of the slaves during the time of the Imperium, to the Fereldan refugees that loitered the street corners, begging for coin. 

But there would be special hidden corners that had good memories in them. Little treasure troves full of things a person never wanted to forget. The laughter of children, hushed whispers between lovers.

It was certainly different to the fade Bethany was used to in Fereldan, especially Loithering. The open forest with spirits lingering between the tall, proud trees.

The thing they don’t tell you about dreams in fade, however, is that it doesn't stop the nightmares. You’re just aware there may be a demon behind it, hoping this makes you desperate enough for a deal.

And, by the Maker, Bethany hopes she doesn’t become desperate watching the body of her twin get smashed by an ogre over, and over, and over, and over, and fucking over again. Or watching the body of one of her older brother’s body waste away to ash in front of her eyes to some illness she couldn't understand, only to repeat the same process again.

It is, perhaps, only luck that Bethany had been able to bring herself back to the waking world. Her gasps fill the small bedroom they reside in in Lowtown. For a moment, she thinks Gamlen would grumble about her being too loud too late at night, but no such remarks come. Instead, just the grunts of a sleeping old man. Thoughts of going back to sleep came to Bethany, but… she feels too wound. The images too fresh in her mind.

Slowly, the mage pushes aside the blankets, and creeps down the ladder from the top bunk, glancing at her sleeping mother in the middle before heading towards the common area. She tries not to think about the empty bottom bunk, but the questions of where her other big brother keep popping up in and out. This has been the third night in a row he hadn't been home when everyone went to sleep, and from the looks of it, he hadn’t come home till much too late.

“Oh, Atlas. What trouble are you getting into now?” Bethany mutters to herself as she sets about stroking a fire to life. She may have written it off as a job for the Red Irons, but she also knows her brother well enough that he would have told them all he was leaving for a job. But it’s not of her concern.

The mage pulls her legs up to her chest, and hugged them tight, telling herself that the pinpricks tears at the corner of her eyes are from staring into the fire, and nothing else. If a few stray tears fall, well, no one is here to hear her muffle them in her knees.

.

Bethany jerks back awake again.

She could have sworn she heard a thud outside the door, and panic flares in her chest. Several thoughts go at once. Templars, thieves, maybe the two of them together. Her staff is in the bedroom, she won't have time to get it. It’s almost overwhelming how fast her heart beats. Till she hears the small ‘fuck’ muttered in a voice she knows all too well.

Quickly, she stands, undoing the latch on the door to open it. Atlas stands on the other side, leaning on the frame with a key in hand. For a moment, relief floods her at the sight of her brother home, but it doesn’t last long. She sees the bruise that looks only a few hours old bloom under his eye making it bulge just a tiny bit. And from the way he’s taking weight off one of his left foot, it looks like he might be hurt there as well, but Bethany can’t make out much more than that. “What happened!? Where did you go!?” She makes sure to keep her voice low as she takes Atlas’ face in her hands. He tries to fight it at first, but relents when he accidentally shifts onto his injured foot, trying to hide the grunt.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Yet, despite his gruff dismissal of the topic, he lets her move his head from side to side, leading them both over to stand in front of the fireplace. “What are you doing up? It’s well past midnight.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Not a lie, but they both know it’s not the full truth. Atlas squints at her. She must have tear trails on her face still with the way his eyebrows furrow in silent concern. A callous hand comes to wipe away some of the dried water from her cheek.

And it’s like time has frozen right there in the common room. Atlas and Bethany always loved each other, but now she’s coming to the startling realization that they have very few things in common. They always had, Atlas found it hard to be soft, and Bethany never liked his too harsh words. The only thing is that they’re siblings, they both watched each other grow up. And now, after all that’s happened, she doesn’t know how to talk to her own brother, and maybe Atlas feels the same way about her.

The spell of silence is only broken when Atlas clears his throat, and takes his jacket off. “I could use some… help, however. Do you think you can heal some of my bruises?” He then goes about pulling his shirt off as well. Bethany almost wishes he hadn’t, His right side is almost covered in nothing but bruises. Like he had been hit repeatedly with a chair. A small bandage rests below his ribs with a patch of blood in the middle. A horrible sight to see on your own brother.

But, again, Bethany knows her brother. He doesn’t ask for help so openly, doesn’t show his hurt like this to anyone else. He’s trying to reach across a gap that had appeared between the both of them. This is the only way Atlas knows how, so she scoots a chair close to the fire so she can see his injuries better, and instructs him to sit so his chest is facing the back. “I’m not much of a healer. You should know this.”

“Mhmm.”

Bethany sets her hands on his shoulders, and wills the magic to come to her. It’s slow in how it manifests in her hands, but it comes. Atlas lets out a small grunt at the feeling of it. The process is slow as they go, Bethany makes sure to take her time as she heals the injuries. She can feel it now as she flows the magic through Atlas’ body. The bruise on his face, the bruises on his torso, the gash near his rib, and his knee. That’s what had been bothering him beforehand. She shouldn’t be surprised really, he had said that he had injured it somehow at Ostagar, it would stand to reason that he could so easily injure it again.

The mage isn’t sure how long it takes for her to heal everything that she can. It’s not a perfect, and complete heal, but when she opens her eyes, Atlas’ torso look almost a thousand times better than it did before. The giant bruise looks several days old, and minutes away from fading in front of her own eyes. Her brother grunts as she moves his leg to test it out, finding it good enough.

Now with that all done, Bethany's eyes can’t help but roam the skin stretched along his back. There aren’t too many scars that mark the skin on his back. Only one or two small ones that he gained from Ostagar that he wont talk about. Maybe a small one from being hit in the back from a tree branch. But there’s one scar that draws her eyes, a burn mark that covers all of his left shoulder blade. It creeps up a bit onto his shoulder and neck, and a little bit down. She vaguely remembers how he had gotten it, he had been young and only stretched as he had gotten older. James had casted a spell by accident, and had only been _pretending_ to cast a fireball. It had been the first spell he had ever casted. Bethany herself had been way too young to remember the event.

“Do you ever miss them?” Her voice is so quiet that if Atlas wished, he could have said he didn’t hear her. But she knows he does the way he stiffs as her fingers glide across the burn mark. He looks over his shoulder at her. He isn’t pretending to not hear her, maybe he’s waiting for her to continue. She takes it as a cue to go on. “I just mean it’s been… It’s been almost a year. Do you think about them?”

“Yeah… Constantly.”

Ah, she should have known better. She knows her brother, and his bravado for the future. ‘ _There’s no room to look towards the past_ ’. But he’s just as scared as she is. Just as stuck there.

Maybe they have more in common than she thinks.

“Sometimes I think of what I said to the both of them, and take everything back. Especially the last few days.” Atlas whispers the last part to himself. Bethany allows him to have this regret for himself. He more than likely means the things he said to Carver. The two of them had been at each other’s throat since they were young, but the… the last few days that Carver was alive, they had been more so. They argued about everything under the stand; how to fight darkspawn, Carver wasn’t holding his sword right, he needed to cover his right, he was eating too loudly, his footsteps were too loud.

Now, Bethany can easily say, looking back at it, that he was scared. He was terrified of the darkspawn getting at them. And he took it out the only way he could have. By nitpicking everything, and yelling. Atlas was a horrible busybody, and Carver absolutely hated it.

“I think I’m going to miss James’ singing the most.” The two of them fall into small huffs of laughter at the thought of James’ signing. He was excellent at most of the string instruments that they had come across, and his singing was divine. But the songs he wrote were funny, and awful to get a laugh out of people.

“Yeah… Yeah, I think I miss that, as well. Or maybe the time Carver accidentally killed that fish when he was trying to skip rocks. I don’t think I’ve seen someone so horrified at their own dinner.” Atlas’ shoulders shake under Bethany’s fingers at the memory. Carver couldn’t have been older than 11 at the time, and had been trying to emulate what Atlas had been doing. It had helped their father with dinner, but the look on his face had been the talk of the family for weeks after that.

Silence falls on the two of them, and Atlas takes this time to put his shirt on. The mage notes that he had already taken the bandage off himself. He stands from the chair, putting it back before Gamlen can even start to complain that neither of them put stuff back. She watches as he stands awkwardly in a single space, as if he isn’t sure what to do. In Loithering, he would have called the end of that and gone to bed. But maybe it’s the fact that Bethany hadn’t a chance to wash her face yet, or the fact that they’re remembering memories of people who passed before their time.

But here in Kirkwall, the fade isn’t the only thing that’s different.

“I should… get going to bed.” The end comes out as more of a question than anything, and maybe if things had been different, Bethany would have laughed at her brother’s unease at emotions. She had in the past, but she can’t do it now. Not only is she not feeling up to it, but she knows he’s doing it to let her choose what he should do to cheer her up. ‘ _Cheer her up_ ’ that sounds wrong, and not at all what he’s trying to do. ' _Appease her_ '? No, that’s not right either. Settle the unease she’s feeling? Yeah, that’s better.

“You probably should.” She nods, most to herself, Atlas isn’t looking at her anymore. The burn mark stays in her sight for only a few moments before it’s gone.

It’s quiet again.

“Wait… Atlas.” He turns. Too quickly if anyone else where to watch. He had been waiting for her to call his name, tell him what to do to make it at least a little better. The fact that he wants to makes the distance between the two of them bearable. “This maybe stupid, but could… could I sleep in your bunk? With you?”

‘ _Like when we were kids_.’ Bethany doesn’t say that part, but memories of when a young Bethany was scared of the dark, and she would wake the first person she could reach to help her. Most of the time that was Atlas. He would grumbled, but he would let her in his bed, and hold her throughout the night. He would complain of dead arm in the morning, but over and over and over again, he would let her in his bed.

Now it isn’t any different. He nods his head, leading the two of them into the bedroom the four of them reside in. Gamlen still hasn’t woken, and mother still sleeps soundly. Atlas gets into the bunk first to get comfortable. Bethany climbs in last, getting under the blanket and Atlas’ waiting arms. Easily, he surrounds her with his body mass. She forgets sometimes how much bigger he is than she is. It’s almost laughable.

“I won't let any demons get you. I promise you, Bethany.”

A small whisper in the night that could be easily forgotten, but something that Bethany won't ever forget. Whatever the distance between her, and Atlas are, he will always have her back. He will always fight for her. They may have so little in common, but as long as they are connected by a single thread, he would fight a horde of darkspawn if it meant that Bethany would be safe in the end.

Eventually, she falls asleep easily with the sound of her brother’s soft breathing in her hair. They may have little in common, but they still have each other despite it.


End file.
